


Aeria Gloris

by Fauxtalian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol, An AU where Kylo has wings, Angel Wings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brendol is a shit head, Deceased Parents, Hux is a grumpy introvert, Imprisonment, Inhumane conditions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phasma is a chaotic entity, Slow Burn Romance, Vaguely victorianesque time period setting, barber surgeons, drug use in reference to antiquated medical practices, evil circus, vaguely steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fauxtalian/pseuds/Fauxtalian
Summary: Hux looked up to the sky, blowing visible condensation into the cold air. The trees were filled with crows that continued to commune and squawk ominously.“Why are there so many fucking birds?” Hux asked to himself, fishing out his pocket watch to check how much more time he had to endure this kitschy nonsense. The chain of his watch had broken earlier in the week, and he hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. He popped it open and held it out into the moonlight to read it.In an instant a bird swooped down, stealing the watch from his hand before Hux had a chance to react. The bird landed in the grass, looked at him with the watch chain in his beak and then flew off.Hux had not been prepared for what he would find when he made chase after the raven.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Aeria Gloris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phonysmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonysmile/gifts).



> For Xy, who has been a most cherished friend to me these past years.
> 
> This chapter includes depictions of alcohol consumption, imprisonment, and inhumane conditions.  
> Viewer discretion is advised.

The sun was never long for the day in the far north during the deep clutch of winter. The dying December sun cast the sky in vibrant shades of pink and purple, making its slow descent beneath the frozen horizon despite the mid-afternoon hour. The landscape was still, and quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary made itself apparent amongst the barren trees and the white snowy hills. The only thing unusual out and about were themselves, perhaps. They were flying out to the Nordic regions on intel of unusual meteorological activity occurring in the region, but there was none to be found once they were there. They had come a long way to discover a lot of nothing.

The sun was low in the sky, and many of them hoped that the Aurora Borealis would be seen; they’d been informed that it was one of the great spectacles that the polar regions had to offer, with long spectral ribbons that danced across the sky. The splendor of the sight would almost make the failed mission worth its trouble. The anticipation of the solar light-show almost distracted them from the strange black plume forming above the treeline. 

At first it looked like smoke from a coal-fire, but it didn’t make sense for it to be there. There were no human settlements in the area for hundreds of miles. The cloud did not behave like smoke, in that it did not touch the ground. It grew and expanded, as though it was collecting warm moisture. There was no humidity in the frigid arctic air, adding to the unnaturalness of the anomaly. They’d found what they’d come for.

“Where’s it coming from?” someone from the party asked, flying closer to the tree-line to get a closer look. It was a bad move, as the cloud began to flash angrily with static electricity and began to pursue them with speed none of them had ever seen from a storm front. 

“It’s coming for us! Fall back! Fall back now!” one of the others called, flying away to escape the hostile entity. Most of them were far enough distance away that they were able to escape. 

One was not so fortunate. The stormy menace consumed the one who’d flown in for a closer look, and with a flash of light, the cloud dissipated, vanishing as quickly as it appeared along with the comrade it had taken. 

“Kylo!” a woman shouted in a panicked voice.

No reply came. The only answer was the frigid silence of the winter night.

  
  


~~~~~~

Armitage Hux thought of his late mother often during his early morning walks to tend to the Arkanis clock tower. It had been something that Hux delighted helping her with when he was still her apprentice. Maintenance on the city clock tower remained the responsibility of the Hux and Son’s horology industry, for it had been Hux’s great grandfather who had been commissioned by the city to build the tower in the first place. His family had a legacy of producing ornate and fanciful clocks and watches, and their elite status maintained throughout the better part of the century. 

When Armitage became the sole proprietor of Hux and Son’s, he had taken the business model in a different direction. Though he possessed all the technical knowhow, he lacked the vision and the creative muse required to be an independent artisan. He stocked the shelves with recreated designs of his predecessors, never interested in venturing into the realm of original designs. 

Armitage also expanded the scope of offered services to include repair and restoration work, which was closer to the occupation he wanted to pursue. The repair service was not limited to clocks, but rather anything that operated with mechanical components. Despite this, Hux still Light was still dim when he came upon the city square, very few people were out and about at this time, which was another thing Armitage liked about these walks. The azure face of the clock tower looked almost indigo in this light, the gilding of the numerals that circled it only somewhat visible. 

The tower was adorned in stone spokes and statues of angels and acolytes- which were more or less regarded in their society as bringers of death. The angels themselves were depicted with massive wingspans, with feathered maines where normal humans would have hair. They carried chains, toting along the condemned souls that were bound for afterlife.

It was a morbid theme, but it was also appropriately symbolic of the passage of time. A representation of mortality served as a reminder to not waste the time which one is given. 

maintained his position as tower technician, just as his forefathers had. Although the business ran under Hux’s leadership could hardly be qualified as horology, there was no one in Arkanis that was more qualified for the task as he was, and so the tradition remained.

  
  


Hux took a moment to survey the condition of the stone and the maintenance which would be needed to maintain the structures. One of Hux’s duties was to advise Parliament of the restoration work that needed to be done. 

Climbing the ten stories to the top of the clock spire was his least favorite part of the job. Twenty stories of rickety wooden stairs were nothing to be trifled with. When he finally reached the top, the young man took some time out on the catwalk to watch the sunrise. The sleepy town was becoming more visible as the sun rose. Below, he could observe the townsfolk waking, and lighting the lamps of their storefronts.

Past the stone walls of the town, he could see the vague silhouettes of the mountain range and the countryside. As a boy, Armitage often enjoyed venturing out into the countryside with his mother. The business and the proximity of town life was taxing for a child. It was liberating to walk through the moors, with the only sound being the wind on his back and the voice of his mother telling him stories. The air was crisp out there, with the kind of wind that felt like a caress from the currents that blew in from the north. 

Those were the good days. It was mornings like these where he tended to his work in solitude that he longed for the company of his mother the most.

He began his work when there was enough light to see. The cleaning of the tower was to be the most arduous task, and in fact took until well into the morning, clearing out the grime and the birds nests that had accumulated over the year allowed him to determine what mechanical maintenance was needed. The clock ran on a mechanical engine, and already he could see valves and gears that were degraded and needed to be replaced.

He worked dutifully. It was true that the work wasn’t his true passion, but he was content with it. It gave Armitage time to work on his studies while he waited for a greater opportunity to come to him. All things considered, the life of a horologist was not the worst life one could lead. It was important to Hux to carry on his mother's legacy, but his true passion was invention, to be a designer of great machines, rather than be a one man factory of time tellers. This had been the dream Hux ever since his late mother had gifted him with his first engineering book. It was the direction he was taking the family business, much to the dismay of some of his oldest patrons. It didn’t matter. Armitage had many plans: he wanted to transform his family dynasty to be so much more than that of clock-makers.

When he descended the staircase around noon, he had a firm plan in mind of what work would need to be done the next day. 

The town square was bustling when he emerged from the tower. The market place was stocked with foods and supplies from all manner of vendors, as well as people out and about to get the best picks of the day. In the town center, the maypole was being adorned with flowers and ribbons in anticipation for the coming spring.

Hux was immediately flagged down by a tall woman with long blonde hair and a wool frock--his oldest friend Phasma.

He greeted her with the customary kiss to each cheek, and she smiled warmly at him, handing him the parchment wrapped bundle she was holding.

“Got your favorite,” she informed him, sitting on one of the stone steps of Parliament and beckoning him to join her. He obliged, taking a seat next to her and unwrapping the parchment to reveal a croissant filled generously with orange marmalade, no doubt fresh from the bakery.

“Thank you,” Hux said, taking a bite of the warm pastry. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he began eating.

They sat in silence, content to people-watching together rather than strike up a conversation. It was the kind of friendship they had, as well as the kind that Hux preferred. He didn’t have a knack for being personable, and so never had many friends.

Everything seemed normal, people going about their normal business. There was one anomaly: an unwashed crowd crier who stood in the center of the square dressed in a gaudy costume and painted face.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Hux mused absently. 

The garishly-dressed man apparently took notice of Hux’s gaze and made his way towards him.

“You, too, look like you appreciate a show,” the crier proclaimed theatrically. 

Hux winced at his volume, it was much too early to be shouted at.

“You bet,” Phasma agreed, much to Hux’s disdain--why was she encouraging this guy? Hux was intent on ignoring the man until he stopped bothering them. 

“You’re in luck then, because I want to formally invite you to Snoke’s Circus of Wonder and Oddities. Our show features wonderful and mysterious creatures from around the world, as well as a bazaar selling all kinds of foreign treasures! What do you say to that, madam? One entry for the low price of three coins.”

“Phasma,” Hux admonished her, but she predictably ignored him. He sighed, long-sufferingly. Phasma was nothing if not a chaotic entity.

“I’ll take two tickets, please!” Phasma agreed merrily.

“That’ll be six coins, much obliged madam,” the man said, finally leaving them in peace once the exchange was complete. 

Hux gave Phasma the most unamused look he could muster. “I hope you’re not planning on bringing me along to that freak-show,” he told her flatly.

“How insensitive, Hux. I’m pretty sure the accepted term is ‘performance artists’. It sounds fun,” she teased him, pocketing the tickets in her apron.

“Thanks very much for correcting me. I doubt it, and also I’m not going,” Hux told her resolutely. 

She hummed thoughtfully. “What would you say to a little coin toss? You win, and you don’t have to go. You lose, and you must accompany me.”

Hux didn’t know why he entertained Phasma’s antics. He didn’t want to play her game--that is not without sweetening the deal for himself. “Throw booze into the wager. If I go, you better throw in the good whiskey.”

“Deal,” Phasma agreed, pulling a coin from her pocket before flipping it in the air. It came down on the back of her hand and she slapped her palm over it, looking at Hux expectantly. “Call it,” 

“Heads.”

She uncovered her hand. It was tails. Hux cursed. 

“Best two out of three?” he asked, making Phasma laugh.

“I don’t think so! See you at eight. I’ll meet you at the gate.” She rose from the step to take her leave. 

Hux glared after her. “You better bring the good whiskey! None of that single malt crap!” 

She waved in reply. Hux sighed, dreading what the evening would bring.

~~~

The night was fairly mild considering it was not yet spring. His grey woolen cloak was almost unnecessary as he traversed the cobbled street over to the drawbridge that separated the walled city from the wooded territory beyond. A moat had been dug beneath, necessitating the drawbridge where Phasma waited for him. The water was infested with eels, which made traversing the moat impossible, but it was a good fortification from ground invasion. 

Hux did not make a habit of walking in the woods after dark, but felt safe doing so with Phasma, who was a staggering six foot and one of the most fearsome swordsmen that Hux had ever had the pleasure to observe in combat. The circus also had the courtesy of lighting lanterns along the three mile walk to the moor where they had pitched a caravan of tents. They were far from the only ones on their way to attend--multiple townsfolk made their way down the wooded dirt path to the grassy clearing. 

The moon hung brightly overhead, and the clearing was illuminated with torches and lamps. Multiple tents had been pitched around the clearing beyond the posted gate where a painted man stood collecting tickets. All around stood makeshift shelters; large, dingy canvas tents striped in the traditional red and white. Employees and guests were meandering around the grounds. The employees were easy to spot as they were garishly dressed and unwashed as one expected a traveling carnie to be, a stark contrast to the spectators that wandered amongst them. 

  
  


The man collecting tickets gave them a toothy smile before gesturing to the various attractions that they could partake in before the show would start. 

There was something ominous about all of it. Armitage couldn’t identify a particular reason, but something about this circus seemed off to him. 

The operation was starkly different than Hux remembered it being. Hux had memories of spun sugar and fried confectioneries on sticks; juggling and stalls filled with games to entice people to spend their coins. Hux remembered a circus where merriment was the ultimate intent of the operation.

This new circus was nothing like that. The grounds were also abundant with a myriad of stalls and confections, indeed pedaling foreign-looking oddities as advertised. But the theme of these attractions slanted to the macabre, marketing such things as witches' potions and magical artifacts.

One stall advertised a knife throwing game, adorned with morbid looking dolls strung up in hangman's nooses. The player's objective was to throw the knives, and attempt to cut one of the hangmen down, and the winner’s prize was to take the doll home.

There were also an alarming amount of scavengers out--crows gathered themselves in flocks and loomed ominously over the area. The smell was strange too. The odor of animals and poor hygiene was more or less expected, but there was something else in the air also. It took Hux a moment before he could place it: ozone.

“Pretty spooky. Also it smells bad,” Hux observed while swigging from the flask. Phasma did not, in fact, bring the good whiskey. It burned bracingly on the way down, but there was nothing for it now. Armitage was already there.

“Oh lighten up, constable-of-fun. Couldn’t you try to be a good sport?” Phasma replied, unperturbed. 

Phasma had been chiding him about his poor sportsmanship ever since they were children and attending literacy school together. A common school yard game was called “angels and sinners”. The objective of the game was to assign one child to be an angel. The remaining “sinners” had to hide and then try to make it to an established home base. If the angel caught a sinner, they were taken to “heaven’s gates” to face judgment, and the sinners lost. Children hated playing that game with Hux, who had been taught not to fear angels by his mother, contrary to the accepted lore of their people. Hux would neither try to catch children, nor try to prevent himself being caught by them, and so he was no fun to play with.

Hux continued to be no fun in his adulthood. It made him wonder why Phasma put up with him. He took another swig from the flask, letting the pleasant buzz spread through his body.

“I hope that you are at least armed. I’d like to be able to escape if this turns out to be an elaborate plot to lure people into human trafficking,” Hux remarked uneasily.

“Always, never fear, friend.” Phasma grinned and patted the side of the black walking skirt she wore, paired smartly with her woolen vest. She pulled the piece out of her pocket to reveal the handle of the foldable blade; one she made a point of always keeping on her person. 

It was the first reassuring thing that Armitage heard all day. 

The popcorn was delicious at least. It was even made with real butter, and adequate enough to cushion Hux’s stomach from the astringent whiskey. 

There were various exhibits that featured exotic animals in cages. Elephants, zebras, camels, and large carnivorous cats were all featured and advertised as performers in the show, but the attraction that everyone seemed to flock to was a tent that labeled “Biological Oddities” Armitage was sure that nothing tasteful could be found in there, so naturally, Phasma was interested.

They were ushered into the tent in single file, and what they encountered therein was more or less what Armitage expected. They were greeted by a pair of twin women who were joined at the hip, literally. Their hair was done up in an exaggeration of a powdered Nabooian coif, and their faces were painted in white with garish pink blotches on their cheeks. They were bickering amongst each other in some sort of comedic bit. 

They heckled for Hux’s attention, demanding he decide which one of them was prettier. Hux ignored them but Phasma was happy to interact. At least she was having fun. 

The next exhibit featured a woman entirely covered in hair; some of it glued on some naturally occurring. She was politely answering spectators’ frankly offensive questions, all the while doing tricks with the trained chimpanzee on her shoulder. 

The whole thing was just the sort of distasteful [spectacle/ordeal/other descriptive word] that Hux loathed, and Phasma was amused by. He was grateful when they exited the tent and were back in the fresh and open air.

“Check out that big tent back there!” Phasma said, indicating the tent that advertised a fortune teller. He wrinkled his nose at her; she knew that Hux held no fondness for soothsayers. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” he answered. Hux detested the occult, and had no interest in going.

“Stars, you’re boring. I’m going to get a tarot card reading, just wait here if you don’t want to go,” she told him before running off, not waiting for a reply from Hux. 

Hux looked up to the sky, blowing visible condensation into the cold air. The trees were filled with crows that continued to commune and squawk ominously.

“Why are there so many fucking birds?” Hux asked to himself, fishing out his pocket watch to check how much more time he had to endure this kitschy nonsense. The chain of his watch had broken earlier in the week, and he hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. He popped it open and held it out into the moonlight to read it.

In an instant a bird swooped down, stealing the watch from his hand before Hux had a chance to react. The bird landed in the grass, looked at him with the watch chain in his beak and then flew off.

Hux had not been prepared for what he would find when he made chase after the raven. 

Hux was slightly intoxicated, and made chase paying little mind to where he was going. He blindly followed the avian thief into a nondescript tent.

At first glance, the inside of the dimly lit tent seemed innocuous. It was terribly warm inside the space, which was strange considering the chill outside. He doubted such flimsy canvas would be able to insulate against the late winter temperatures.

The walls of the tent were lined with cages of exotic animals and birds from all around the world, many of which appeared to be from the far north. He surveyed the entrapped beasts, wondering why they weren’t on display with all of the other creatures out front. The tent was dimly lit with oil lamps, hanging on a few of the cages. It struggled to focus on the creatures, but the low light as well as the inebriation were inhibiting his ability to do so.

No amount of drink could prevent the sobering sight he came upon as he rounded a corner of cages.

In the back of the tent, in an over-sized cage made of heavy cast iron, there was a man in chains. He was sitting on the floor of the cage, which was completely empty aside from a bowl of water and hay strewn about. The man was nude with the exception of some torn pants, his hair a dark mess atop his head, and a mostly healed, but severe looking gash over his left eye. He was looking at something in his hand; the crow Hux had been pursuing was perched on his shoulder. The deplorable conditions did nothing to distract from the fact that the man had large black wings protruding from his back. 

An Angel. 

The man looked exactly as lore described, aside from some minute characteristics. His hair was long and dark, just like the wings that grew from his back. It wasn't a feather like what was depicted in stone around the clock tower, although it was hard to tell because it was so matted, tangled with hay he was forced to sleep on. Hux approached the cage, causing the angel to take notice of him. He seemed wary of Hux’s presence, shifting back on his heels as Hux kneeled to level his gaze at him. 

His eyes were a deep brown, and startlingly human. Somehow Hux hadn’t been expecting that, it made the whole scene that more horrifying.

“Are you real?” Hux asked, rubbing at his eyes as though that might dislodge a visual hallucination. 

“Are you?” asked the angel, in a soft deep timber. He scrutinized Hux with feverish intensity. His accent was different from Hux’s: flatter, with less rounded vowels. The clarity of it alarmed Hux enough to know that this was no delusion.

“I am. My name is Hux,” Hux told him, hazarding a step closer. “May I know yours? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’m Kylo Ren, I’m from Regnum Aeria. It’s very far away…I think? I don’t know where I am, I want to go home.”

“How awful. Why have they done this to you?” The angel didn’t answer, instead looking at the object in his hand before looking back at Hux. 

As Hux’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out what it was.

The angel was holding his pocket watch. The crow had led Hux here with a purpose.

“They didn’t tell me. You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe,” Kylo warned before startling violently, eyes trained on something behind Hux.

Hux jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but was relieved to see it was Phasma. She must have seen him run off, and followed behind him.

“Stars above...Phasma.”

Phasma was staring too. Her face was completely drained of amusement, and Hux was sure the look of abject horror on her face very much mirrored his own. 

“Phasma, this… He’s not--”

This man was captive. He was not here of his own free will.

Phasma nodded. “I know, Armitage. I see.”

“Of all the abominable trespasses--”

He was interrupted when Phasma covertly jammed her heel into his foot, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Later. They’ll hear us.”

That prompted Armitage to take in his surroundings; sure enough, there were voices on the other side of the canvas tent mumbling to each other. Hux knew the consequences would be severe if they were discovered here.

Hux looked back to the Angel, who was staring directly at Armitage. The look on his face was awe mixed with desperation due to the sheer state of him. 

“Please, Hux. This place is evil. They’ll kill you both,” Kylo urged again. The sadness in Kylo’s eyes was soul-crushing. Despite his deplorable captivity, he did not plead for his own rescue. Instead he concerned himself with the wellbeing of two strangers. 

Hux’s mother taught him that if one does a good turn for another, that kindness will eventually be returned to the good-doer in some way. The same is true with negative deeds, that ne'er-do-wells will always get their comeuppance for all the wrongdoing they commit. 

From what Armitage had observed in his twenty-nine years of life, this rule of law did not hold true. In his experience, good-doers always got dealt the short end, and degenerates never answered for their wrongdoings. The world simply did not operate in a just and fair way. That was mostly due to the inaction of decent people. When people refused to resist atrocity, it only aided the side of the oppressor. Armitage could not allow this. To imprison someone without ethical justification enraged him on a personal level.

Hux didn’t recall approaching the cage, nor did he remember putting his hands to the bars. The Angel was prevented from coming too close due to his bondage, and instead stayed knelt on the hard metal floor, staring up at Hux pleadingly. His eyes were dark and sparkling.

Armitage couldn’t look away. 

“I want to help you.” He turned to Phasma, looking to her in desperation. “Please, we have to get him out of here!” He turned back to the cage, held out his hand through the bars, wanting more than anything to pull the angel away from this place with them.

The look Kylo gives him was heart wrenching, a combination of longing and desperation in equal measure. He reached out to him as well, their fingers barely grazing each other from the restriction of the chains. 

It was significant, nonetheless. It was as though he’d sensed the angels lifeforce when they touched. It was like a magnetic force, pulling him in; it persisted even after Phasma yanked him back and away from the cage.

“We gotta get out of here Hux,” Phasma said, soft but sternly. She grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“I’m coming back. Just hold on a little longer, Kylo.” Hux’s gaze was broken from the Angel’s as Phasma pulled him away, tugging him along in her iron grip as she forcibly removed them from the tent.

He nodded and followed her, aware of Kylo’s gaze following him out of the tent. Urgency and despair followed in his wake. Hux empathized deeply with the Angel, Kylo. Hux was not usually a man of empathy. Normally, Hux had no problem distancing himself with matters that didn’t concern him; he was never one to get involved. This was a different matter entirely, there was no way he would be able to remain complacent in this, not after the exchange he had shared with Kylo ren.

“Where are we going?” Hux asked as he fished for the flask in his pocket. His watch was still missing. He had left it back there with the angel.

“To take our seats.” Phasma told him flatley.

“You want to remain here? After what we just saw?” He asked incredulously. She shushed him, urgently putting a finger to his mouth.

“If we leave now, it would look suspicious. We are going to stay for what we came here for.”

“Oh, hell.” Hux cursed, gulping a generous swig of whisky.

~~~

The circus performance commenced. All of the performers from the tent, as well as some trapeze artists, clowns, and animals had routines that they performed with practiced ease. Hux remembered very little of it. His thoughts always came back to the caged man in the tent. He couldn’t forget those eyes.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” the ringleader shouted. He was a decrepit man with a face that was full of scars and cavities, with a voice was as repulsive as his appearance. “Thank you for being a wonderful audience! Allow me to introduce myself; I am Snoke, the all powerful, and I want to thank you for your patronage with a parting gift. I save this trick for only the best and most gracious guests. For our final act, I shall show you the power that has never before been harnessed by man. Observe…”

The lights in the tents dimmed until they were plunged in darkness. Hux grabbed Phasma’s arm, and even in the dark he could feel her reaching for the holster concealed in her skirts.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the tent, and in the strobing flash he could see the electricity originated from Snoke’s hand, manifesting into a stunning arc before hitting the metal trapeze rod in the center of the ring. 

The lights came back on in a cacophony of thunderous applause. The smell of ozone was thick now, making Hux feel sick to his stomach.

If this was the sort of power this man was capable of, there was no telling what kind of horrors he was subjecting Kylo to. 

“This concludes the evening's performance, your support allows us to share our art with the world! Tell your friends and family, for we will be here for the rest of the week.”

Spectators began leaving their stacked seats to file out of the tent. Hux was sure he was going to be sick. It did not escape Hux’s notice that the ring leader, Snoke, had his gaze trained directly on Hux. It sent an unpleasant chill through his whole body.

Patrons who made their way through the wooded path back to the city chatted excitedly amongst themselves, already planning their visit for the final performance. Hux wanted to spit at them and demanded to know how they could be complacent to such atrocities. He knew rationally it wasn’t their fault, they hadn’t seen what Hux had.

Still, Hux kept his mouth shut until they were back within city walls. 

“That was awful,” Hux observed on the walk back to their homes. “The fuck did you even bring me there for?” He slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at his companion.

“Yeah, sorry about that Hux,” Phasma said. “That wasn’t what I had been expecting either.”

“We have to do something,” Hux said.

“You’re drunk, Armitage.”

“So what if I fucking am. We cannot stand for someone being held in those conditions. It is completely medieval! How long has that man been kept in fucking bondage?”

“Armitage.” She repeated herself patiently.

“This is your fault, you know. I would’ve been perfectly content, going about my life as normal. You had to bring me there, and now!- and now… I’m involved, whether I like it or not.” Hux lamented, kicking a piece of rubbish on the street.

“Noone’s making you get involved with anything.” She reminded him, holding her hand out to steady him as he swayed towards her.

“Noone has to! I’m making myself involved. They’ve imprisoned an angel. That’s like, a sin against god or something.” Hux reasoned unconvincingly.

“You don’t even believe in god, Armitage.”

“I don’t know what I fucking believe now. I met an angel tonight, Phas. Did you see how he looked, how he looked at me?” Hux was not an overly emotional person. All the same it was spilling into his voice.

“Hux!”

The volume of her voice made him stumble; he only barely managed to right himself by bracing his hand on the side of a building. The cobble beneath him seemed fluid to him as his vision swam.

“What?”

“You’re home,” Phasma said, nodding to Hux’s front door. 

… So he was. He looked back to Phasma, who looked tired and conflicted just as he was.

“Phasma I… Saw something, when I looked at him; I felt something. I’ll never be able to forget those eyes as long as I live.” He leaned against the gate of the fence, wrapping his cloak around him to brace himself against the chill of the night air. “I feel connected to Kylo Ren, somehow. I can’t allow for those evil bastards to have their way with him. I have to help, I have to try.”

Phasma’s gaze on him was uncomfortably scrutinizing, before she eventually relented. She let out a loud sigh, patting him on the shoulder.

“Get some sleep. We can discuss this more tomorrow if you remember it,” Phasma offered, exhaustion apparent in her voice.

Hux didn’t want to let the matter lie, but Phasma was right, he was quite drunk. Hux had drained his flask during the course of the performance, and his stomach was currently threatening to turn itself inside out.

“Fine. Goodnight, Phasma.”

“Goodnight, Hux.”

  
  



End file.
